Today, The All Blue Died
by nauticaas
Summary: Sanji never realized that he had the power to destroy the world. Warning: Major Character Death.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: I bring a second multi-chapter work which would not leave me alone (even though I should be working on a certain other story, sorry) and so I wrote it. It's something different, I hope, and it's very unhappy, so you have been warned. There is also a **major character death** in the first chapter; please proceed as you will. If you do read this, I thank you and hope you find something to take from it, even in a small way.

* * *

**_Shattered_**

Gin feels something like lead in his chest, along his arteries and airways, lacing his heart until it stops, and falling heavily at the bottom of his lungs. His crewmates have backed off now, and he knows that somewhere close by, his captain has a smug, vicious smile on his face, gauging his reaction. Waiting to see what he will do.

What _can_ he do?

The cook is still as he approaches, all lanky, stiff limbs and tattered clothes, and he is wearing a calm, resigned expression on his pale, bruised face. Blood makes his eyes look bluer than he's ever seen before, like an impossible ocean, and it trickles in red streams down into the hollow at his neck. His cigarette is gone.

He doesn't realize that he's crying again until the world spins into an ugly, blurred mess, and then he falls to his knees before Sanji with a howl. Immediately he stiffens, because there is no way that noise was human, and then he laughs bitterly in his head and reminds himself _oh, but you aren't human, remember?_ His crew is probably terrified, sick with fear and worry, but Gin doesn't care anymore. He doesn't think he can consider them his crew anymore, not after everything that has happened, and if they can't understand what he feels then they were never really nakama anyway.

His eyes meet the cook's, and he wonders why their paths even crossed.

Sanji, this man whose food should have been served before kings and gods, not third rate marine brats that had just had their first rank and boat purchased by daddy dearest, who had compassion and kindness for even monsters and demons, even when he knew that mercy would not be returned, who would never turn away a wretched, hungry being like Gin.

They should never have met.

Gin remembers their onlookers and closes his eyes to the audience, knowing that if he is to die today, it will be on his own terms, even if it means turning against the only man he has ever respected.

Until now.

Tears stream down his cheeks as he makes his choice, and then he addresses the audience before him, former crew, captain, and all of the Baratie's cooks.

"We've killed a good man."

The stillness shatters in a murmur of disbelief and shock, and Gin holds Sanji's cold, lifeless hand in his own.

There is nothing left to do now.

* * *

Don Krieg smirks at his former battle commander and raises his spear one final time; he's had enough of this damned restaurant and its shit-cooks. It's time to end this.

The blinding crackle of lightning splits the world in half for a moment, and then Krieg hears the resounding boom that ends his reign. Moans of a dying multitude fill the waters around him, and through sheer willpower he manages to raise his head long enough to see the tip of a long, gleaming blade pointed at him. He grins, or grimaces but that probably doesn't matter anymore, and Dracule Mihawk cleaves right through him without a single word.

His broken throne crumbles.

* * *

Gin stares in horror at the mass death before him, and then he realizes that he is still alive, even after all of this. He looks to Mihawk for answers, but the man has already turned away to leave, as silent and incomprehensible as the last time.

"W-why-?"

The swordsman pauses, sheathing his blade with a moment of deliberation before he glances over his shoulder at him. Gin feels a shudder run down his spine; the man's eyes glow bright underneath the brim of his hat as they consider him.

"You should take him back to his family."

And then he strides towards his own boat, casting a long, sweeping look at the boats on the horizon. Marines, pirates, and other ships too scared to come any closer to the chaos and death surrounding the ship restaurant.

It won't be long before they come, though. Fear can only do so much.

He gathers Sanji up in his arms and stands on legs that he is afraid won't hold him up anymore, but they do, and he begins to walk across the broken pieces of the Baratie's fins and what remains of Krieg's proud fleet. Most of his crewmates are already dead, but some seem to have been spared in Mihawk's destruction and they call out to him (_him_, of all people). But Gin has had a lifetime of turning a deaf ear to cries for mercy, and there is no sympathy left in him. Not for them. He easily steps past them without any hesitation.

(He thinks he has lost the ability to feel until now.)

Sanji's head rests comfortably against his chest, and for the first time in his life Gin learns what a broken heart feels like.

* * *

Zeff watches in a catatonic daze, and for several long, terrifying moments Patty and Carne think they've lost him as well, but then the demon Krieg pirate carries Sanji back to them and he shudders.

"S-sir-!"

He shoves them away and _drags_ himself across the broken floorboards, face white and expressionless. Patty tries to stop him, but Carne just turns his face away, barely holding back his tears.

_"Don't."_

Oh _God_, how could this have happened?

* * *

This young man looks so much like Sanji and yet nothing like him. He looks at Zeff with the placid, quiet air of someone with none of his temperament and so much peace. He wants to shake the boy until he comes back so he can yell at him to stop looking so goddamned serene, _what the hell, this is not like you, baby e-_

He's so cold.

The Krieg pirate has put him down on the edge of Baratie's broken threshold and steps back, lowering his eyes respectfully to the cooks' mourning. He glances back at Dracule Mihawk's boat as he holds the approaching ships at bay, but right now Zeff doesn't care about Krieg's men or Mihawk or any of the Marines and pirates heading their way because his baby eggplant is _cold_.

His hands tremble as he touches Sanji's cold, stiff hands (one of them is mangled, and he'd _murder_ the piece-of-shit-pirate who did this if he didn't suspect the bastard was already dead), and slowly, pushing back the silent horror that is steadily welling up inside of him, he straightens his shirt and tie and begins the painful process of buttoning it all up. Damn kid, he always wore too many useless, tiny buttons on these things.

Some of them are missing, and he realizes that they are probably scattered somewhere in the wreckage, or in the sea. It bothers him more than it should.

Zeff tugs his necktie off and mops away some of the blood on his face, trying to make him look a little more presentable, because he has always prided himself on his looks, vain, cocky little brat that he is. He only succeeds in smearing it further, staining his cheeks a dark, purple-red color.

Eggplant.

The others have gathered around them now, waiting for an order, a request, _something_ from him that he doesn't know if he can give anymore. His heart is beating too fast and he is afraid to look away from Sanji; he doesn't know if he can keep himself composed if he does.

A dark heavy cloak enters his vision, and Mihawk kneels beside him silently. Zeff doesn't raise his eyes. Almost hesitantly, the swordsman reaches towards Sanji and rests his hand over his face.

"May I?"

He never was and never will be ready for this, but the cook nods anyway. When his hand withdraws, Sanji's eyes are closed, and he looks so much like he's asleep that Zeff almost, _almost_ tries to shake him awake.

But he can't.

Anger fills him up and he hopes that it will swallow up the grief so that he never has to feel it again. This is wrong, this is unnatural, this isn't _fair_. The baby eggplant was supposed to outlive him, not the other way around. He was supposed to live and be happy and follow his dreams and-

He still looks like he's sleeping, so Zeff tucks an arm under his shoulders and draws him close; the floor is hard and unforgiving and he'll wake up cold and stiff, and he should really find him a blanket or something. After all he has been through, he deserves a little bit of comfort.

"Don't be scared, baby eggplant," he says in a half-remembered life. "I'll keep you safe and warm."

Sanji is so quiet that it scares him senseless. He cradles him to his chest because his own body heat will have to do for now, but then he realizes that this will be the last time he can do this.

His world shatters.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Spectators of a Tragedy_**

The Marines sweep across the waters in grim silence, collecting the bodies of the East's feared Krieg pirates from the wreckage. Those few that are still breathing are taken into custody; if they don't die in the medical wing then they will likely face a long stint in prison. Compared to dying out on the ocean, a prison sentence will be a mercy to them. All the non-government ships have been turned away, though some of the pirates have stayed to watch the retrieval. As long as they stay out of the way, the Marines won't bother with them. None have a bounty high enough to make these pirates worth their while, not when the bodies of Krieg's men are worth millions together, even dead.

This will come to be known as Mihawk's Massacre in the history books, but for now they just call it a shitstorm. Cleanup of this area will take weeks, and they probably will not recover all the bloating corpses from the water.

The only place they have not approached is the Baratie, and the restaurant sits in an eerie stillness on the ocean.

Mihawk has retreated to the Baratie's door, and he stands guard in silence, his piercing golden gaze enough to deter any bolder pirates or Marines. They don't know why he is protecting the place, but no one wants to find out either.

That is, until one ship enters the area brazenly, an unidentified Jolly Roger spread across her sails.

Smoker narrows his eyes.

* * *

Gin looks up at the two new ships on the Baratie's port side. One is a full-rigged Marine ship, and it cuts the smaller boat off before the little caravel can reach the restaurant. He recognizes the Marine captain from earlier run-ins; the last time he saw Smoker, the officer had given the order to pursue him after Krieg's flag ship had returned from the Grand Line.

They will execute him by dawn, he realizes as they approach, and as he moves to stand, numb and calm about his impending death, the cook who once denied him food shoves him back down next to Zeff and tosses his outer shirt over Gin's head. Patty scowls at his look of utter bewilderment.

_"He saved your life; the least you could do is not get caught."_

Smoker barks a warning to the presumed pirate ship, and the boy in the straw hat who claims to be captain of his crew frowns sullenly but otherwise obeys orders to pull off to the stern, giving the Marine Barque room to weigh anchor. Smoker disembarks with a group of his ensigns and tries to make sense of the situation, asking many questions and receiving dreadfully few answers. They overlook Gin, and he hunches his shoulders warily under Patty's uniform while the interrogation goes on.

The cooks try, of course, but with Zeff still sitting like a silent statue on the deck with Sanji clutched in his arms, it's hard to find the words to describe what has just happened.

(How do you begin to explain the great tragedy of a short life?)

Swallowing back tears, Carne painfully recounts the story, with some help from the others when his voice falters at the end. The Marines take down the shortened version of the tale, asking if they have any idea how many men they witnessed fall in battle. Did they see any other of Krieg's ships that might have survived the disaster? Where was the Don's body?

The cooks look back at the Marines wearily, all of the questions falling on deaf ears. Couldn't they just be left alone to grieve?

Mihawk gives them the statistics they are looking for (eighty-nine dead, twelve survivors, last time he scanned the waters; he wouldn't be surprised if some of them had just died right now) and nods at the bisected corpse propped up on one of the pieces of floating shipwreck, telling them that he made sure Krieg's fleet would never rise again.

"Is that all, gentlemen?"

The Marines give a murmur of horror at the sight of Don Krieg's halves lying on the slab of wood. From the caravel on the stern side, an entire crew blanches and a swordsman leans forward in morbid interest, eying Mihawk with a gaze filled with wonderment and determination. Gin thinks that there is a dangerous man if he ever saw one. He hopes that he stays away from them.

"Are there any injured over here?" Smoker asks, averting everyone's attention from the gruesome sight.

_Nothing we can't handle, _they say weakly,_ we'll be fine_. Looking around at the grief-stricken cooks, Gin thinks about how far from the truth that is. Patty is staring at Mihawk as though he is considering begging for the man to kill them all out of mercy.

"Injuries we can handle," Carne finally croaks, and Patty grabs his arm in support; he probably doesn't realize that he was swaying on his feet. "Thank you for your concern, Captain."

"Is that a casualty?" One of Smoker's men says bluntly, and Carne looks as grey as seastone.

The Marines share a look when Carne confirms it, and Gin feels sick to his stomach when Smoker's officers compare their one loss to the Krieg Pirates' death toll, and out loud they admire the Baratie's luck.

"Not bad for a bunch of cooks against the Krieg's army, even if Hawk-eyes had his fun with them first."

The straw hat boy yells at them for belittling the cooks. "Don't you dare disrespect their struggle and their loss, you bastard! That man was a special person to them!"

The cooks look up at the livid, red-faced boy in shock, and tears begin to roll down their cheeks unbidden. Gin watches with a tired gaze and wonders why the sight of that boy makes him feel a little less heavy.

The Marine who spoke is unimpressed. "Serves them right for collaborating with pirates; this place has always been a magnet for troublemakers. Besides, what's one measly kid compared to the chance to live another day? You should be grateful it was just him and not this whole blasted shithole."

Smoker looks at the ensign officer like he cannot believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. Straw hat boy's crewmates are barely able to hold him back. Before Gin can even think of shoving his iron tonfas through the man's skull, Mihawk stands up from his place at Zeff's side and fixes a dangerous look on the Marine, who reflexively takes a step back in retreat.

"If you're done with your investigation, I suggest you leave now."

The man sputters. "You can't expect us to feel sorry for a shitty cook. I heard he was a pirate sympathizer, too. Snuck food to criminals just because they were 'hungry', and neglected real, _paying_ customers. You saw the number he pulled on Fullbody last week."

"You're right; he was just another damned brat."

Zeff's careful, almost loving manner of handling Sanji's body contradicts his harsh words, and he cradles the boy's head as he lays him out on the deck before he struggles to his feet (one of the cooks rushes to help him), and they watch him hobble toward the open doors of the restaurant, leaning heavily on his cook's shoulder. He pauses at the entrance and glances over his shoulder at the Marines.

"I trust you'll see yourselves out, officers."

The Marine ensign smiles haughtily. "Good riddance to that little hooligan, huh?"

Smoker turns around and calmly slugs his co-officer across the face, and the bastard topples into the water. It gives Gin a little bit of satisfaction to hear the sound of bone crunching before the loud splash.

"We'll take our leave," the Marine captain says apologetically, looking uncomfortable with the situation. Zeff just nods and heads into the Baratie without another word. Gin wants to stand and go after him, but he can't risk getting caught right now and there's no way he can just leave Sanji abandoned out here. Zeff's state is concerning, though; when he glances out at the entire gathering before leaving, he is wearing the look of a man who has lost everything.


	3. Chapter 3

**_The Vigil_**

Johnny and Yosaku stand between the two swordsmen nervously, trembling and panting even as their eyes warn Zoro to stand down. As soon as the Marines left, their friend had leapt down from the Going Merry and headed straight for Dracule Mihawk with a keen frown on his face, and they are worried that this was going to end up as another bloodbath.

"Bounty hunters?" Mihawk eyes the trio indifferently. "Or challengers, judging by your swords? I'm not interested, _boys_."

"It doesn't have to be here," Zoro mutters, shrugging off Usopp's and Nami's grasping hands on his shoulders. "We could head out to-"

"No."

They understand his frustration, they really do. His dream is seemingly only a few footsteps away, but Zoro doesn't seem to realize that right now he couldn't possibly be further from reaching his goals. After what they have seen Mihawk wrought on the Krieg pirates, they know he cannot face him now and live.

Seeing the look of disappointment and anger on his face, the swordsman crosses his arms over his chest and nods in the direction of the Baratie, stepping out of the way to give them a clear view of the scene. "I can guarantee that looters and other lowlife crooks will be swarming this place within hours. Would you really leave them alone out here, after what happened today?"

The bounty hunters share a look and wonder what reason the world's greatest swordsman would have to be concerned about the cooks of a simple restaurant, even if it _is_ the renowned Baratie-on-the-Sea. They know that Zoro is a hopeless case, though; if left to him, he would yell himself hoarse at the cooks to get back on their feet and keep fighting. Grief and sorrow seem to be lost on him…or at least, they had believed so.

When he gets a good look at the cook, something in his face shifts, and the great Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro stares with a stricken expression at the white cloth covering the body's face and the pale glimpses of skin still exposed at its neck and hands.

_"How dare you be so fragile…" _He whispers so softly that only Johnny and Yosaku hear, and they know that he is probably thinking of Kuina, someone who often shows up in the precious few hours of his sleep and who is his main driving force in his quest to become the greatest, no matter how little he speaks of her. (They don't call themselves his brothers without reason.)

"At least acknowledge him," Johnny pleads, praying that he is not the next body that the Marines have to fish out of the water. Yosaku simply nods in support, looking like he is just managing to _not_ be sick all over the deck.

Mihawk considers the two bounty hunters standing protectively in front of Zoro. "If we should cross paths on the Grand Line, I…would not deny your challenge. You have my word."

Luffy steps in at this point, to their great relief. "Good. Zoro wouldn't accept anything less than that."

He turns to the cooks. "Maybe we can work together to help these guys out, for now?"

The look of gratitude on the cooks' faces is enough to break their hearts, and when Mihawk nods his approval, the rest of Merry's crew is left stunned.

* * *

Carne slowly wrings water out of the towel and begin to wipe away the blood on Sanji's face, feeling like he is a hundred miles away. Beside him, Patty furiously rips open his shirt and washes up as much exposed skin as he can before he can get the chance to start crying again. The others seem to be doing the same, ashen-faced and somber as they work.

Zeff watches them from a chair they pulled in from the dining room, rubbing absently at the place where wood meets his flesh-and-bone leg, and they wonder if it's been bothering him ever since the Krieg pirates snapped it off. The remaining ex-member of that crew is seated on the floor near him, listlessly staring at Sanji like there is no one else in the world but the two of them.

It is all Carne can do to focus on his work when he feels so detached, like this is not Sanji and he is not preparing his body for burial. (_It's not him_.)

His fingers brush against Sanji's temple, and he finds the little cluster of pockmarks along his hairline, left over from the bad bout of the chicken pox he'd suffered when he was ten. They had teased him about it to the point that the head chef had stepped in and kicked them all mercilessly around the restaurant until the boy stopped crying.

(It had been especially cruel, but back then they hadn't yet warmed up to the idea of having to work under a senior cook who was over three times younger than them.)

And then he can't distance himself enough, because there is that little white scar on his thumb from when he nearly amputated his own finger while showing off to Zeff, and over here is the birthmark behind his left ear that he was always so self-conscious about because it is shaped exactly like the gravy dish (or a fish, depending on who you asked), and his stupid, ridiculous, illogically curly eyebrows that just never matched look so damn perfect and beautiful right now. Carne promises, _vows_, to whoever is listening that he will never again tease Sanji for them if he would just wake up.

"Please…" His vision blurs and he stops, willing the tears not to fall. The others have stiffened at his voice, but he can't make himself go on. Please, please, _please_. Give him back.

It's in the details that he finds Sanji, and it is in the details that he begins to break. Each mark, every scar, the hateful injuries littering his body, all of it is just more salt in the wound. From his perpetually broken toenails to the twisted, bloodied remains of his right hand (he dearly hopes that Sanji was not awake when they took his precious pride and livelihood, he hopes beyond _anything_ that they didn't make him watch), he finds another piece of his heart wrenched away, again, and again and _again_ until the others are crying with him as well like they might never stop.

But they do.

They do stop, and it hurts that their tears have dried out even though the pain burrows itself deeper into their chests until they can't breathe.

Somehow, not being able to cry makes the pain worse.

* * *

Sanji had worn his white cook's uniform less and less as he grew, preferring the dark double-breasted suit and tie that they had become accustomed to seeing, as impractical and ridiculous as it was in the kitchen. They always chalked it up to his rebellious little quirks, like his long bangs and his stubborn smoking habit.

Now, he lies on the platform in his full chef's whites, looking as though he could just get up from there and stroll right into the kitchen again whenever he wanted. His hands are folded neatly together over what they could salvage of his suit, his damaged hand hidden carefully under the other, and in the dim light from the outdoor lanterns his ashen, unnatural pallor is completely disguised. It won't last long, Patty knows; there is only so far he will hold out against decomposition, despite their best efforts. None of them wants to abandon him to a coffin at the bottom of the sea, but they cannot carry him with such limited space on board the ship, so when Gin suggests a pyre they agree reluctantly. His eyes haven't yet begun to sink into his skull when the flames are lit, and the night sky glows golden around them as they watch over him on the remains of Baratie's fins.

To their surprise, they're crying again as he begins to burn, and when the flames swallow him whole, Patty screams these horrible, gut-wrenching sobs, because that damn annoying, frustrating, lovable little brat is truly gone now, and he is never coming back. No matter how the other cooks try, they can't get him to calm down the entire evening.

Zeff is oddly composed throughout the night, even as he lights the fire underneath the platform, and he keeps his eyes on Sanji's pyre until it consumes him entirely. Then, leaning heavily on his crutch, he leaves his cooks in their vigil over the funeral pyre, and he doesn't even wonder whether they'll stay the whole night (he knows that they will).

Somewhere out on the sea, Mihawk and Straw Hat pause in their patrol of the waters around the Baratie and look out at the blaze on the sea restaurant's deck, and they both remove their hats somberly as they watch the flames lick at the inky black sky. Merry's crew is silent and cheerless, and even the pirate looters on the horizon seem to hesitate at the sight.

No one attacks all night long.

* * *

The stairs leading up to the living quarters are narrow and twisting, and Zeff has to struggle up the last couple of steps on his crutch; he'll have to travel to shore to replace the leg again. He catches his breath on the landing, but instead of heading towards the master bedroom, he turns to the right, walking past the cooks' sleeping quarters and going all the way to the end of the hallway.

He stumbles into the little room and catches himself on the battered old chest of drawers against the wall. The bed sinks slightly under his weight, and he glances wearily around the sparsely decorated place. A small clock on the far wall, some pictures hanging behind him and set up on the nightstand, a lone pack of cigarettes on the dresser. It barely looks lived in, and Zeff wonders if he had bothered coming in here at all.

Without thinking about it, he slips in under the covers and lies down in the bed, feeling so empty and hollow. It doesn't seem like enough, so he reaches under the bed for the floppy little stuffed fish that he knows he'll find there. Sanji was always such a little kid, despite his grownup act, Zeff chuckles mirthlessly to himself, and he hugs Moby to his chest and brings the sheets up to his face in an attempt to compose himself. Sanji's smell surrounds him, cigarettes and sea salt and something inherently _Sanji_, and Zeff's eyes snap open. Tears begin to trickle down his cheeks, and he buries his face into the pillow as he shakes with uncontrollable sobs and splitting heartache, like he will never be whole again.

Zeff weeps for the Baratie cooks and their pain, for the heartbreak of a short life and lost dreams, for his own grief that will devour him whole. But mostly he weeps for Sanji, for his little eggplant and the fact that he will never again see him, or scold him, or touch him…

He weeps for his little boy that he will never be able to hold again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note**: There are some statements expressed in this chapter regarding grief and how people cope with it; I do not condone such opinions, especially the ones dealing with loss of appetite as a symptom of grief. It is a natural response to loss and heartbreak, and though it is important to take care of your body and eat healthily in spite of how difficult it may be, I do not hold the opinion that people who cannot bring themselves to eat in the early stages of grief are stupid, idiotic, or otherwise foolish. Everyone deals with loss and death differently and should be treated respectfully throughout the process.

In this chapter, the Baratie cooks are being foolhardy and need that push, as harsh as it is, in order to stop harming themselves while trying to avoid their grief. Hopefully that comes through in this chapter, which I hope that you enjoy.

* * *

**_Comfort Food_**

The days march on like a funeral procession, and no one seems to know how much time has passed, or is passing, or will keep on passing, because each day is as pale and quiet as the last on the famed restaurant of the seas. Baratie's doors have reopened to the public, and most of their regulars have filled the main dining room to full capacity, but despite the hectic bustle of the lunch rush, there was a certain emptiness to the place.

Carne steps out onto the floor with a loaded tray and several tables to serve; in the absence of the waiters, they just have to make do with their limited staff of chefs and double up on front duty while keeping the kitchen running smoothly. By the end of the day everyone is so tired and run ragged that they just pass out on the bed for a couple of hours before hauling themselves back into the kitchen for another grueling shift.

He sets a round of appetizers in front of the customers at table_ Cerise; _his eyes catch a glimpse of golden hair across the table, and he almost drops the tray when the little blond boy gives him a dimply, gap-toothed smile.

"I can't go back out there," he mutters to Patty, who trades stations with him and gives his shoulder an understanding squeeze.

"Just don't you dare get tears and snot into the stew, idiot. Wash up and get table _Poivre's _order ready."

The kitchen is quiet and somber, and only the steady clatter of dishes and the hiss of the Baratie's eight grand stoves fills the absence of conversation. They barely get the chance to breathe, but that means that they don't have time to think about anything either. The kitchen is their only world, and for a while they just don't have to feel.

Then, Straw Hat's crew takes them hostage.

* * *

Everyone in the dining room is watching them in fearful silence, their meals forgotten the moment that Straw Hat and his crew entered the restaurant. The boy is sitting at the head of the long table his men have set up at the center of the floor, legs crossed underneath him and arms folded across his chest; he gives the chefs at the table a challenging look.

Patty matches his glare and says for the hundredth time: "Let us back into the kitchen."

"Don't wanna." His plate goes untouched in front of him, something that is apparently quite a feat, according to his crewmates. "Not until you guys stop acting like such idiots!"

The red-haired girl, Nami, nods at the hot meal served before the cooks and gives them a knowing look. "You haven't been eating, have you?"

With the way that they're looking at the food set out on the table, the answer is obvious; they've been so focused on forgetting the pain all week that they haven't even allowed themselves a chance to eat and rest. Scowling, Patty opens his mouth to tell her off when Carne speaks up quietly.

"It's hopeless…what would you do, Straw Hat, in our position?"

The boy scratches his head and looks to his crew. "What do you guys think?"

Their answers are almost immediate. "Lie about it."

"Turn to thievery."

"Train out of it."

"That's terrible advice; don't listen to them!" Johnny and Yosaku shout indignantly, and Straw Hat's three friends shrug shamelessly. Gin steps out of the kitchen at that moment where he has been following the entire exchange, letting his gaze sweep over the grief-stricken chefs and the Baratie's stunned clientele before he echoes the cook's question. "Oi, Straw Hat; what would you do right now?"

Luffy grins toothily. "I'd eat meat. All of it."

Gin smiles; it seems like such a simple-minded answer, and he understands that the last thing on their minds is eating, but numbing themselves to the pain and neglecting their own bodies is the choice of someone with real stupidity, especially since food is their area of expertise. They stare numbly at him, too shocked to protest when he tells them that in no uncertain terms. Luffy adds that if they are hungry, then they should eat.

The chefs reach their breaking point when Gin brings in the dish he set aside specifically for the Baratie's cooks, and he calmly addresses Patty and Carne, who are watching him suspiciously from Luffy's side. "What would Sanji say if he saw you refusing food like this?"

It was rather low of him to say that, but his words seem to reach through the walls they have built up. They tear into the food with a week's worth of hunger and gusto, determination shining in their eyes, as if they are saying that they will not fall that easily, nor give in to grief. Then, one of the chefs takes a deep, shuddering breath, and Patty is looking at Gin with tears in his eyes.

Luffy tugs the brim of his hat down and smiles softly, and the rest of his crew looks away sheepishly, but Gin refuses to look away. One by one, the cooks eat their earnest attempt at Sanji's specialty recipe, tears rolling down their cheeks as they taste the familiar dish and try to contain their grief. Not a one of them succeeds. Even though they are full-out shaking and sobbing by this point, they don't stop until they've eaten their fill, and Gin is relieved when they slowly begin to calm down.

For a long while, there is only the sound of their quiet weeping from the table, and eventually the tears end. Carne looks up at them with red-rimmed eyes and a weak smile.

"It was…good. Thank you."

They know it is mostly nostalgia speaking, but Straw Hat and his crew beam proudly anyway; they worked hard to get the food just right, even if they had to rely heavily on the notes in the margins of the recipe book. Luffy grins and gives a pleased laugh. "The chefs of a good restaurant like this should never go hungry! It's not right, you got it?"

The customers of the Baratie murmur in agreement, to the chefs' surprise. All around them, they are surrounded by bright, kind smiles, and Gin doesn't doubt that the cooks are going to be alright.

He has just moved to clear the table with the help of Luffy's crew when there is a sudden movement from the second floor. Everyone looks to the stairs leading up to the kitchen, and then slowly, step by step, the owner of the Baratie appears on the spiraling stairwell, looking haggard and worn. He glances around the room wearily until he finds Luffy.

"You're still here, too?"

The boy blinks at him from under his hat.

"Food's great here; I'm not leaving until I'm satisfied."

"Hm, is that right?" The smile doesn't reach his eyes, and Gin wonders what the old man is thinking right now. There is something like regret on his face, but a different kind than what he was wearing on That Day; it's just a little bitter and angry. Zeff draws in a deep breath and looks out at everyone in the restaurant. "I have something important to say, so everyone should shut the hell up and stop stuffing your great maws right now."

It's impressive how quickly the room falls silent at a few simple words.

Then the entire restaurant gapes at him in shock. "You're going to _what_?"


	5. Chapter 5

**_Keys_**

_The Cooking George is still drenched with water from the Grand Line's seas, and he can taste the memory of Reverse Mountain's salty spray on his wind-chapped lips; the Log Pose spins wildly out of control on the desk in his cabin, unable to grasp a strong magnetic pull from any of the ordinary islands of the East Blue. It is a strange, disorienting thing to come back home to a safe, normal stretch of sea._

_Of course, safety is all rather relative, he muses as his men plunder the passenger ship in the midst of a growing tempest. The ocean will never, ever truly be a home, no matter where one might sail. But all he needs is a few more minutes, and then they can pull away from the smaller vessel and escape this storm with their loot. Even though he has to take a moment to set an example of one of his men (the idiot knows that they never take food from their victims, he _knows_ this), they still have time._

_And then he meets him, a bright-eyed little fighter boy with snarling conviction in his bared teeth and fear clinging to every single tear that he refuses to let fall, even as the pirates mock and stomp on his dream and his own crew tells him to silence his voice. He stands up after each and every one of Zeff's legendary kicks (he doesn't hold back even for naïve, loud-mouthed little brats) and spits back the vitriol they send his way. Blood trickles out of the corner of his mouth when his ribs are unable to withstand the blows any longer, and as the pirates turn to retreat to their ship, he can see the tears spilling down across his cheeks, even in the rain._

_Zeff sees the first cracks in the sweet, fragile dreams of a little child, and he vows to never let the light of hope leave that boy's eyes ever again._

* * *

Mihawk watches him from the doorway with a patient, expectant look, like he is always going around to mourning people's homes to make sure they haven't given up and died yet. _Or maybe I'm just bored_, he had drawled carelessly, ignoring the lamp, books, and other various objects that he had thrown at him from Sanji's bedside table. The bastard looks entirely too comfortable with being on the receiving end of someone's uncontrolled anger.

"So there is something left in you, cook," he says with a raised brow, and Zeff scowls at him for daring to find anything funny about the situation (though he cannot help but agree with him; he had believed that he had lost everything with Sanji, but apparently he could still get riled up by shitty swordsmen who couldn't mind their own business). "You didn't strike me as the type to give up."

The cook stares at the mess he is sprawled in: a pile of Sanji's sheets and forgotten clothes, several unfinished novels and an old newspaper from last month. Somewhere on the floor beside him there is a growing pile of empty dishes and liquor bottles. Strange, he had never been one for alcohol.

"I don't anything left to give up on," he mutters, feeling oddly deflated by the reality before him. He has lost everything that mattered to him, and it took him until now to realize it, didn't it? What is left?

The swordsman has the audacity to look amused. "Grief is not a prison, cook." He gestures at the door. "Do you have a reason to walk out of this room?"

_No, _he wants to tell him bitterly_, I lost everything nine days ago when Krieg blasted the front doors of the Baratie wide open and snuffed out the light of my life. I lost all my reasons when he stole the last breaths of the little boy I vowed to protect from the harsh reality of the world, when everything that Sanji was and ever would be was destroyed, when his dreams-_

Zeff's eyes widen, and Mihawk gives a slight smile, that clever bastard.

* * *

This is how he finds himself on the Baratie's main stairwell, looking down into the shocked faces of his staff and his customers, making the announcement that will change his world from its broken foundations upward, and no one manages to speak for several long minutes.

Then, one of the cooks gives a squawk of disbelief. "You're going to do what?!"

"You wear glasses, Harkl, not a hearing aid," he snaps without any real anger. "I know you heard me the first time."

From where he stands, he can see the smirk on Mihawk's face even as he stands hidden in the kitchen, and he cannot help a smile of his own; it's been a while since he actually felt a little like himself.

Straw Hat looks up at him with an excited grin. "Eh, old man? Are you really gonna do this?"

"Are you sure about this, boss?" Bastion comes to Harkl's defense; they've always been close friends, so Zeff isn't surprised at all. "You understand what your decision entails, right?"

"Don't question my judgment, idiots; I'm always certain of everything I choose to do." He glares challengingly at everyone, arms crossed resolutely across his chest. "It's not like this is the first time I choose to go either; I probably have the most experience on that sea than anyone else on this shit can combined." Except for Mihawk, of course, but no one needs to know about the swordsman currently hiding out in his kitchen right now. Zeff decided that having one of the Shichibukai in his restaurant would be just a little too much of a shock to his customers and cooks, especially so soon after the Krieg incident a week ago, and the man had reacted rather well to being shoved into the galley without warning or ceremony (at least, he thought so; it was hard to tell with this bastard).

There are whispers and mutters from all around the dining hall, but Zeff doesn't care what any disbelieving idiots had to say about his choice; he has made up his mind and would follow through in his decision until his very last breath. Some would call him tenacious, but he prefers the more direct term, stubborn.

Apparently Harkl has the same idea. "Sir, forgive me for being so tactless, but are you off your rocker?"

"_Harkl_!" Bastion looks horribly distressed, and the others look like they're about to soil themselves as well. It would be more amusing if this was just another day at the Baratie instead of the day that he chooses to end everything they have ever known.

"I'm sorry, but why in hell are you choosing to head to the Grand Line? That place is a pirate's graveyard, and you said it yourself; you've been there before. What reason do you have to go back?"

"It's all for Sanji."

The Baratie has gone deathly silent. Even Straw Hat stops his cheerful chatter with his first mate at the news of Zeff's decision.

"I'm going to keep the last part of him alive," he says evenly, almost afraid that the dam of his emotions is going to break under his words. "His dreams."

He makes his way down the rest of the stairs in silence, feeling the weight of their stares on him as he joins them in the dining room. It is amazing that they don't seem to hear the thundering beat of his heart; he feels like it is about to burst out of his ribcage. Straw Hat is staring at him with a quiet, sage look in his dark eyes, and he feels his heart ache a little more. _You're a sharp, good captain, aren't you, boy? I would have given him to you; I know you would have taken good care of him._

"So, now everything is out in the open," Zeff says resolutely, waiting for the torrential floodgates to open up and hit him with criticisms and doubts and oppositions. "You can't change my mind, though you're welcome to try, shitheads."

At first, none of them oppose him, even the skeptical Harkl, and they all vow to stay with him through his decision. But then, Patty and Carne exchange a glance and rise to their feet, and for a moment, he actually feels betrayed. He expected it from some of the others but never his two oldest and most trusted men.

Of course, they give him the shock of his life instead. "Sir, there's something you need to know. Sanji was…we had planned to reveal it later, but it looks like the time came sooner than any of us had expected."

Zeff takes the envelope from Carne's hands with a dumbfounded expression. "The three of us wanted to tell you together, but…erm, here it is."

The little eggplant had known from the start, hadn't he? Zeff stands on the deck of the Going Merry and stares up at the Baratie in stunned amazement, a weak smile on his face at the bittersweet sight before him. There are tears stinging his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall, not in front of an audience. _That idiot…he was always going on about everything I did for him, but he never realized that he would outdo me in everything, even after he…_

Straw Hat grins widely and shoves his hat back to get a good look at the Baratie. "Oi, old man; now you definitely have to come along with us."

Zeff holds the letter in his trembling hands and nods. "Aye, just try to keep up, little brat."

* * *

**A/N**: _Sanji has left the Baratie one final gift. What could it be, and will it be enough for Zeff and the cooks to reach their goal on the Grand Line? What of the Straw Hats, who must face the challenges ahead without their would-be cook and friend? And where does the former Krieg commander Gin fit into all of this?_

Hey, guys; I'm really excited about your response to this story; it's easily become one of my favorites (I lied; they're all my favorites). But anyway, I'm pleased with your guesses; they're pretty spot on and awesome. I expect the next chapter to take a couple of weeks, mostly because it's a monster compared to the current length of the ones you've had recently. It sets up the rest of the story and hopefully answers a few questions (while raising many more), but for the most part the story will be about the process of grief and life after the loss of a loved one, and the focus is on the Baratie cooks and Sanji, though I do see the Straw Hats getting more of a spotlight than I had originally planned. I really hope you enjoy; your comments and messages inspire me and make me really happy. Thanks for reading!


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